Raised voices alert him to the presence of others just outside of his chamber doors, including the distinctive voice of a certain dinosaur which rises above the others. “What do you mean he’s still in bed? He’s late!” Kuzco gasps, turning to shove his comic scroll beneath his pillow and out of sight before sliding down to his back and pulling the covers up to just beneath his chin. Mere seconds pass before the doors slam open, with Yzma appearing in the center of them with her arms outstretched like some kind of harbinger of doom, as harried servants scuttle in around her.
“You’re sick?!” She demands, striding up to his bedside and taking a seat on the edge of it. “You’re too busy to be sick today, Kuzco. You have meetings to attend, and a ceremony later on. There’s also preparations for the Clash of the Families–”
In his defense, every time he’s faked this previously, Yzma had always left it up to the servants and brushed him off as not her problem. She had no issue taking sole ownership of decision making in the future Emperor’s stead, and told the servants to take care of him by whatever means necessary so she wouldn’t have to risk getting sick herself.
Kuzco found it incredibly easy to fool the servants, learning to feign a cough and being too weak to get out of bed so they would bring him things and then leave him alone, but not acting quite sick enough to necessitate getting the Royal Healer involved. It was a piece of cake.
He coughs, his smaller hand moving to cover his mouth and sinking deeper into the lush covers on his bed. “B-but Yzma, I’m sick. Super sick, yep. I can’t even eat without feeling like I’m gonna hurl it all up again! I actually think I’m dying.”
A mischievous gleam lights up Yzma’s eyes, one that an older Kuzco would recognize later as an opportunity and something he would learn to mimic himself, but she schools her features and adopts a concerned frown, leaning forward to press one of her cold hands against his forehead. “Dying? You can’t be dying! Whatever will the Empire do without its Fearless Emperor?”
Servants flitter in and out of the room in droves, some of them bringing in blankets and other necessities, and some removing old clothes and his abandoned tray of food. “Crumble and fall apart? Wither away to nothing? Build statues of me in my honor– wait, they already do that. Either way, it's tragic! That’s why I think I need to stay in bed, and rest as much as possible.” He tells her matter-of-factly, nodding his head along with the statement. “I might even need to cancel the tutoring session scheduled for later on– oh, but I can keep the massage! It’ll probably help me heal faster.”
As if to emphasize how weak and helpless he is, Kuzco flops back against his pillows with a sigh, lifting an arm to press against his forehead; his best ‘woe is me’ attitude on full display.
Yzma tuts and pulls the covers up a little further once he’s done, smoothing her hands along them and tucking them in against his sides– and Kuzco does his best not to squirm from how hot it makes him. “Why of course! Rest and relaxation are key to a quick recovery, but if you’re dying we’ll also need to have the Royal Healer in as soon as possible to examine you!” She turns to look at some of the idle servants, and snaps her fingers for their attention. “Someone summon the Royal Healer right away! Prepare our young king a bath, and have someone in the kitchen make him some of that special stew for rare ailments.”
While Kuzco is no stranger to being pampered, and enjoys letting the servants wait on him hand and foot – the thought of so much attention when all he really wants to do is read his comic scrolls makes him itch. “Hah, n-no. That’s okay! Don’t bother the Royal Healer, there’s no need to go through all that trouble.”
“Nonsense! You are the future Emperor, your health is paramount Kuzco. We need to get you better!” Yzma stands, smoothes her hands over her robes and heads to the door to wait for the healer when Kuzco speaks up again. “No, really! I think I’ll be okay if I just, you know. Sleep for a while.” He sits up, stretches his arms over his head and over-exaggerates a yawn. “Yep, I think a nap is exactly what the royal healer would suggest! Better get on it–”
Hiding an amused snort behind a scowl, Yzma spins around to face him with her hands on her hips. “What’s the matter Kuzco, don’t you want to get better as soon as possible? Unless of course. . . you aren’t really sick.” She offers, leaning forward a little and letting her grin show if only to see his reaction.
Little Kuzco’s eyes widen, panic setting in and he realizes he’s stuck. “. . . N-no! Of course I am! You really think I would lie about this kind of thing?!” He scoffs.
After a moment in which they both just kind of stare at each other, he sighs and accepts defeat. “Fine, bring the Healer in. I’m going to try to get some shut eye..” Kuzco waves a hand in the air in dismissal, mind already reeling with ideas for how he can escape getting found out. Maybe he can hide out in the Royal Gardens for the day– that should work.
Yzma rolls her eyes but forces a smile on her lips as her hands clasp together in front of her. “Great, thank you, your majesty. I’m so glad to see that you’re taking your health so seriously.” If it’s obvious that Yzma knows what he’s up to, she doesn’t say anything else about it– only flashes him a cold smile as she turns to leave.
Later on when she and the Royal Healer find him and discover that he was, in fact, faking his illness, Yzma takes pity on him and lets him rest for the rest of the day– though she makes a point not to advertise the fact that she’s being nice. It’ll ruin her heartless reputation. The only ones who have to know about that are the two of them. But make no mistake, she’ll be far wiser to his schemes in the future.
